


Come and Get Your Love

by Whisper132



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-10-26 01:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10776624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: In which Yuri rushes to Almaty to woo Otabek and encounters tiny shorts, cute animals, and lots of miscommunication.





	1. Kazakh Catnip

It takes Yuri a few months to realize just how stupid Otabek really is. Sure, the guy can ride a motorcycle and has been invited to DJ at some of the most popular clubs around, but Otabek honestly and truly has no idea how hot he is and how much other people would like to peel off his leather jacket, slip the sunglasses off his face, and lick his entire body. The asshole is taking zero responsibility for Yuri's sudden and miserable sexual awakening, and that is fucking criminal.

"Hey, so when do you think we can meet up again?" Yuri asks Otabek during a Skype call. At first, Yuri thought straight up asking like this would be too desperate, but since Otabek thinks Yuri grabbing his ass is just some kind of camaraderie bro-ship gesture (Otabek's view on the world has clearly been tainted by sharing the podium with Viktor and Chris), Yuri is opting for a direct approach. Well, not too direct. He's not going to just call Otabek and flat out say that they should go buy their pair rings right now because Yuri is calling dibs, and anyone who thinks otherwise can go fuck themselves. Yuri's a romantic, and he's ready to woo the shit out of Otabek Altin.

"We're both going to that off season workshop." Otabek's expression is neutral. He honestly thinks that it's fine if they don't physically see one another for two more months.

"Not good enough," Yuri says. "I want to see you before that." He hoods his eyes like he's been practicing in the mirror. "I don't want to share you this time." There. Otabek can't possibly misinterpret that.

"Oh. Did you want some advice on a new routine?" Otabek's eyes light up, and he smiles gently. "Maybe you can come down here for a weekend. I might be able to get the rink for us at night so you can show it to me."

Yuri takes a moment to screenshot Otabek's gorgeous face. "Let me know when, and I'll be there." Yakov will have a fit, but whatever. It's the off season, and Yuri deserves a few days to himself after the kickass season he's had. "I've got all sorts of moves I want to show you." Bam. There's no way Otabek can misinterpret that. Yuri licks his lips to seal the deal.

"I look forward to it. I can show you some jump sequences I'm working on."

The fuck? "That'll be great," Yuri says.

"There's a restaurant I want to take you to, so bring something nice to wear." Otabek looks away from the camera; his smile melts back into his usual neutral grimace. "I think you'll really like it."

"I...yeah." Yuri clears his throat to get the stupid out and tries again. "I'll bring something extra nice." He turns up his smile a notch and tilts his head so his hair jostles a bit. Mila says it's a 'mankiller move.' "Thanks for thinking of me."

"You're my friend," Otabek says by way of explanation. "Of course I'm thinking of you." He grimaces then looks away from the camera. "I should get going. It's late."

Did Otabek mention the friend thing because he knows what Yuri's thinking and wants no part of it, or did he mention the friend thing because he's just that dense? "Hey, can I ask you something?" Yuri decides living with the ambiguity will probably kill him. "When you say we're friends, what exactly does that mean to you?"

Otabek blinks. "It means we're friends," he says. "Isn't the definition universal?"

"There are a lot of different kinds of friends," Yuri says, hoping he sounds much more knowledgeable on the subject than he is.

There's that Otabek grimace again. "Oh." He pauses for a moment, staring into the camera like he's trying to get his phone to tell him an answer. "Well, whichever is fine with me as long as it's with you." He nods, the issue clearly resolved in his head. "Goodnight."

"Night," Yuri whispers and disconnects the call. "Whichever is fine with me as long as it's with you," he repeats, scrolling through his photos until he gets to the screenshot of Otabek's smiling face. "You stupid, romantic, clueless bastard."

******

Yuri clears his schedule in a hurry and books a ticket to Almaty two weeks after Otabek extended the invitation. He packs light for the four day trip, so he only has to shove two suitcases into the taxi on his way to Otabek's apartment. Hands shaking with anticipation and determination, he texts Otabek to let him know he's on his way and receives a thumbs up emoji in response. The taxi ride winds through businesses and then residential areas until it stops in front of Otabek's small apartment complex. Yuri hefts his suitcases up the stairs and knocks on the door.

"You got here fast," Otabek says, opening the door.

Yuri can't move. Otabek is standing there in thin sweatpants and no shirt with a towel around his neck. Fortunately, Yuri's hands know what they're supposed to do and dive into his pocket, activate his phone camera, and snap a shot without Yuri needing to think about it.

Otabek laughs and pulls Yuri inside. "Come on in. I thought I had some extra time, so I just got out of the shower."

Yuri watches Otabek's muscles move as he picks up the luggage and brings it inside. "Thanks for letting me stay here," Yuri manages through his dry, cottony mouth.

"Sorry I don't have anything better than the couch to offer you." Otabek wheels the suitcases down the hall. "I cleared out a bit of the bedroom for your bags, though. I figured you'd need some space to…" he waves his hands around, "...do your thing."

When they get to Otabek's room, Yuri pauses and takes everything in. He's been to Almaty once before, but it was a somewhat more formal trip with Viktor and Katsudon. The two morons wanted to be chaperons because they thought Otabek would do something untoward to their 'little ice princess.' One trip was all it took to convince them (and Yuri) that Yuri could prance around naked and Otabek would still be a perfect gentleman.

Well, that shit is ending right now.

Yuri slides up behind Otabek as he's positioning the suitcases on the fancy stands Yuri's only seen at hotels. He curls his arms around Otabek's waist and slides his hands up Otabek's still moist chest. "Nobody can ever tell you're so strong because you keep wearing crappy outfits." He lets his hands wander a little bit. "You're wasting your assets."

Otabek has the nerve to laugh. "Giacometti told me the same thing once." He continues to situate the suitcases, completely ignoring the way that Yuri is groping him. "I guess I'm just not flashy like that." He pats one of Yuri's hands. "That's more your style."

Damn, Otabek smells really good. Yuri rests his head in the crook of Otabek's back between his shoulder blades. "It could be your style if you wanted it to." As Yuri's mumbling, his lips ghost over Otabek's skin, picking up the faint taste of soap.

"I like my style the way it is for now," Otabek says. He slips out of Yuri's hold and gestures to the suitcases. "They should stay balanced on the racks when you open them. Give me a sec and we can go grab some lunch."

"Sure," Yuri sighs. "I'm starving." He's starving for so much more than whatever amazing dive Otabek's planning to take him to for lunch. His mouth already tingles for another touch of Otabek's skin. His hands, now with nothing but air to hold onto, feel prickly and empty. "Get your shit together, Plisetsky," he snarls at himself. "Stick to the plan." Yes. Infiltrate Otabek's defenses, cut straight to the point with frank discussion so the idiot can't misinterpret anything, and leave with Otabek's sworn promise that he is Yuri's boyfriend and will send nude photos on demand.

Now, what to wear?

*****

 "What do you think?" Otabek stares at Yuri, waiting for his assessment.

"I didn't know they had these in Almaty," Yuri says, his focus still on the fluffy kitten in his hands. "You never told me."

"It opened two months ago. I wanted to surprise you." Otabek Altin is a damn handsome man most of the time, but when he lets loose one of his rare smiles, the angels themselves probably swoon. In the confines of a tiny cat cafe in the middle of the work week, the effect is limited to Yuri, a dozen felines, and the two aging proprietors who opened the shop to boost business for their family cafe.

Yuri tries to hold onto the white kitten in his hands, but it wants to crawl over the table to Otabek (Yuri doesn't blame it), so he lets it go. "I love it!" Yuri reaches out and another cat is placed into his waiting hands. An endless supply of cats, good food, and a smiling Otabek rank this moment right up there with winning Grand Prix gold. "I really like this one," Yuri decides, surveying his new cat companion. It's a black cat with a slightly disgruntled expression. It claws a bit into his arm, just enough to let him know what amount of handling is acceptable, and then settles down with a purr.

"All of our cats are available for adoption," one of the owners says. She's a nice old woman that reminds Yuri of his grandfather.

"He's just visiting," Otabek says. He's currently covered in three cats, all of whom have left Yuri to lounge on Otabek's head or shoulders. If he moves, he'll dislodge them, which is probably why his food is still half eaten and his coffee is cold. Otabek's eyes catch Yuri's. "I would take care of him for you, but my apartment doesn't allow pets."

Yuri bites his lip because he's about to start crying. Nobody's ever said anything so wonderful to him. "You would…" He bites down harder, trying to keep the tears in check. The black cat paws at his face in concern. "You'd do that for me?" It's no use. He starts blubbering in his seat. The black cat, annoyed at the noise, walks across the table and takes up residence in Otabek's lap.

Slowly, so as not to topple the cats, Otabek reaches his hand out. Yuri immediately swipes it up. "If it's important to you, of course I would." Otabek looks completely confused, as if Yuri should have known this the entire time.

Yuri blows his nose in a tissue the old woman hands him then takes up yet another cat, this one so large it covers Yuri's entire torso. "This one's like Katsudon," he says, his voice still weird from the aftereffects of his tears.

"Katsuki will be please to know you're thinking of him." Otabek winces when one of the cats stretches and repositions itself. "I thought the cats were supposed to crowd around you, not me."

Yuri pulls out his phone and takes a few shots. "They must really like how you smell." He closes his eyes at the sense memory. "Maybe your soap is like catnip."

"I thought catnip was supposed to excite cats, not sedate them." Otabek crosses his eyes to look at his feline adornments, most of which are now asleep.

Yuri waits until Otabek's gaze is back on him. "It all depends on the cat," he says. "Some cats get really relaxed. Others start running around like crazy." Yuri blinks once, slowly. "Others get a different kind of excited."

"Luckily all of the cats here are spayed and neutered," the old woman says, clearing away Yuri's dishes. "No worries about any frisky business."

"Oh," says Otabek. "Well, that's good." In slow, careful movements the old woman starts to pluck the cats off of Otabek. "You can leave this one," Otabek says, pointing down to the sleeping black cat on his lap. "He's not in the way." Otabek runs his fingers lightly down the cat's back.

Yuri hates that cat so much, and he hates himself for being jealous of a cat. "Eat your food so we can get dessert," he grumbles.

Otabek, face serious, nods and makes short work of his lunch, eating it all with one hand while the other continues to scratch at the cat in his lap.

*****

"His name is Barcelona," Otabek decides. The black cat meows in seeming approval before circling into a comfortable position on Otabek's lap.

"I can't believe you brought him home," Yuri says, his eyes cast suspiciously to the cat. It's pathetic, but he's jealous of a damn cat. The thing refused to be removed from Otabek's lap at the cafe, hissing and scratching at anyone who dared try. Otabek just shrugged, said it was probably best that the cat come home with them, and somehow managed to convince his landlord that the cat should be exempt from the no pets clause because it would live with his family while he was away.

"He reminds me of you, so I wanted to call him Yuri, but three Yuris is too many." Otabek scratches the cat and it shoves its head further into his hand. "Now you have a cat when you visit me." Otabek's grin is something new, and it causes a river of lava to slide from Yuri's heart and down along his stomach to pool between his legs.

"You got the cat for me, didn't you?" Yuri says. "Because I said I wanted it." Barcelona looks at Yuri and snorts.

Otabek shrugs. "He can keep me company when I can't see you. Right, Barcelona?" The cat hops up and rubs his head against Otabek's chin. Otabek laughs.

"For fuck's sake, Beka, this is confusing the shit out of me." Yuri puts a hand to his head to rub away some of the building headache. "Normal people don't just get a cat because their 'friend' wants them to."

Otabek pauses in the middle of scratching Barcelona. "Why not?"

Yuri grabs the cat and tosses it to the other side of the couch before straddling Otabek, grabbing his collar to drag the other man's face close. "Do you even know the difference between someone who wants to just be friends and someone who wants to fuck you?" He presses his hips down in case words aren't properly demonstrating his point. "I'm not gonna pretend like everything's fine just being your friend." He leans forward and scrapes his teeth along Otabek's jaw. "If you want to keep--" He can't say anything else because Otabek's lips have found their way to his and are stealing all the air from his lungs.

"I can tell the difference," Otabek says into Yuri's ear. "I just like taking my time." He presses his lips to the patch of skin behind Yuri's ear. "Be more patient, Yura, and enjoy it." Otabek's nails trail across Yuri's back, pulling the most embarassing noises from Yuri's throat.

Yuri's brain doesn't know how to process what's going on. He can't figure out how quiet, serious Otabek suddenly turned into a monster whose touch is making Yuri's insides twist and scream. "Fuck," he groans when Otabek bites down just a little on his shoulder then kisses the same spot.

Otabek lets out a long breath, lifts Yuri up, and deposits him on the other side of the couch. Barcelona hops out of the way and reclaims his spot in Otabek's lap. "There are some movies I thought you'd like to see while you're here."

Yuri catches his breath, calms his body, then crawls over to snuggle against Otabek's side. "We could've done more," he grumbles while shoving his face into Otabek's side.

Otabek cards his fingers through Yuri's hair. "I haven't even taken you to dinner yet."

"Are you serious?" Yuri can't quite bring himself to detach from Otabek's side, so he just cranes his head around to catch Otabek's steely expression.

Otabek circles his arm around Yuri's shoulders, squeezes, then lets go. "Very serious," he says. "I made reservations for tomorrow, and you'll be upset if someone takes a picture of you looking too worn out."

What the hell does he mean, too worn—oh. "We're gonna talk about this again."

"Movie," Otabek insists. He leans over and places a soft kiss on Yuri's cheek. "We'll go to the rink later tonight, and you can show me the routine you wanted me to see."

"Beka, there is no routine."

"You'll think of something."


	2. Keep it Safe

Otabek frowns at Yuri from the center of the ice. "We're supposed to be skating," he says. 

God, he looks like such a fucking hobo in that outfit. How is Yuri supposed to share the ice with those crappy decaying-knee sweatpants and the equally as shabby shirt that sports a crusty quarter of a yellow smiley face? Yuri knows Otabek doesn't pay much attention to social media, but going out in public in this outfit is not only an embarrassment to Otabek's fans, it's an embarrassment to Otabek's future husband.

"Yuri." 

Okay, so if Otabek's just standing there, looking irritated, you don't notice his hobo fashion too much. Still, it's a complete waste for him to be wearing that baggy shit when he's got all that body he should be putting on display. Maybe Yuri needs to take him out tomorrow and get him some functional practice clothes. Maybe Yuri can force him to model things and take photos. Maybe Yuri can slip into the changing room and--

Otabek throws Yuri over his shoulder, removes his skate guards, and carries him to center ice. "We're wasting time. I want to see you skate."

"You see me skate all the time. We could've just watched something on YouTube." Yuri grabs onto Otabek's arm as Otabek finally sets him down. "You know I don't have anything ready for the new season yet."

"I just wanted to have some fun skating with you. Wait here." 

While Otabek skates off to the side, Yuri collapses onto the ice and hides his face in his hands so Otabek won't see his big-ass grin. They're going to have fun skating. Together. Yuri can't remember the last time he just skated for the fun of it, let alone shared the experience with a human that didn't make him want to retch all over the ice. It's almost like they're on a date (except for the hobo clothing).

The speakers crackle overhead before music fills the arena. Yuri gets back up to his feet when Otabek rejoins him on the ice. "I threw this together yesterday. I think you'll like it." He squeezes Yuri's hand and quirks his head to the speakers overhead.

"Shall we skaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate!?" The music commands them into motion. They begin slowly, building speed, then start in on Phichit's choreography, adding their own flares as the music dissolves and recombines, expertly mixed to transition into…

"I'm not skating to JJ's fucking theme song!" Yuri yells but continues to skate despite his protests.

"Wait for it," Otabek hollers after he exits a triple axel. 

Sure enough, JJ's theme is interspersed with a popular jingle from a Kazakh STD awareness commercial. Yuri desperately wishes he could use this as his next exhibition skate, but there's no way anyone would let him. "Hey," Yuri says, hurrying to Otabek's side before he can start another jump sequence, "dance with me."

Yuri does some ballet while Otabek does something that could be loosely interpreted as ballet if the observer is squinting and has never seen ballet before. They twirl through an extended Agape mixed with Serenade for Two, and Yuri doesn't care if Otabek's legs don't lift as high as his do or Otabek's fingers don't float through the air as gracefully as his do. What he cares about is the way Otabek lifts him into the air at the perfect moment and lets Yuri soar above the ice. Their positions are probably all wrong, but Yuri's having one of the best times he's ever had on the ice, just goofing off and remembering that skating used to be more to him than just gold medals and blistered feet.

When Otabek finally lowers Yuri back to the ice, the music shifts again. As the opening chords to Intoxicated play, Yuri shivers from the feel of Otabek's hands gliding slowly down his sides and settling on his hips. "Another dance?" Otabek whispers into Yuri's ear.

Yuri nods and slides his arms around Otabek's neck. This would be so much sexier if that jersey knit trash bag wasn't covering up Otabek's torso, but the firm pressure of Otabek's hands as he leads Yuri slowly around the ice is well worth Otabek's shitty fashion choices. They don't speak as they skate, just hold one another and glide. Sometimes Otabek shifts his hold and picks Yuri up, pulling him tight against his body for a slow spin before releasing him down to the ice again. As he sinks down, Yuri can feel the muscles under the hobo outfit perfectly, and he moans at the warm, compact heat of Otabek's body against his and then shivers as the chill of the ice settles into the spaces between them, prickling even more awareness across Yuri's skin.

When the music finally ends, Otabek draws Yuri in flush with his body and places a small, sweet kiss on his forehead. "Have fun?"

All Yuri can manage is a breathy, "Yeah," and a blush. No matter what happens between them, Yuri knows he's going to remember this skate for the rest of his life.

*****

Despite being three hours ahead of his usual operating time, Yuri wakes up at 6 the next morning. Barcelona is sitting on his hair, curling around his head like a fluffy winter hat. Otabek's sofabed is surprisingly comfortable, so Yuri stays in bed for half an hour with Barcelona, idly scratching the cat's head and wondering when Otabek usually gets up on a Thursday. 6:30, it turns out, is not when Otabek gets up, so Yuri decides to cook breakfast.

Otabek's fridge is tidy and spartan. Left to his own devices, it's clear that Otabek eats more or less the same thing every day. Yuri isn't sure if that's because the man can't cook or because he just isn't picky about food. It's upsetting that he doesn't know even the basics of Otabek's daily routine, even after all of their long conversations over the past months. Otabek probably knows everything about Yuri, from what his childhood was like up to that night Otabek saved him and their friendship started. Otabek's always asking Yuri to tell him stories, always listens to those stories and asks questions that lead to yet more stories. Yuri...asks about some stuff, but he's usually too busy answering Otabek's pointed questions to ask about Otabek's past. Does he have a lot of friends? Has he ever had a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Does his family ever come see him skate? Does he like to cook? What's his favorite meal? Are there any past lovers that Yuri needs to assassinate?

There is so much he doesn't know about Otabek and, looking into the man's perfectly arranged fridge, Yuri feels like he's a shitty friend who only talks about himself. Well, he's going to change all of that right now, starting with this breakfast. Given that they're going somewhere fancy tonight, Yuri opts for a simple breakfast of sausage, fried eggs, and some of the pre-cut fruit Otabek has in the fridge. The food is done quickly (Yuri drops a few bits of sausage on the ground for Barcelona), and Yuri plates the food, grabs utensils, and makes his way to Otabek's room to surprise him with breakfast in bed. He'll wake Otabek up, show him the breakfast, and ask Otabek to tell him about his family. 

The food almost falls to the floor when Yuri toes open the door (left ajar so Barcelona can come and go as he pleases) and sees Otabek sprawled out across his bed in the thinnest lounging shorts ever made. Yuri can't imagine Otabek buying them for himself, and he doesn't really want to think about someone else buying them for Otabek, so he just sends up a quick prayer of thanks that somehow these shorts found their way into Otabek's life.

Barcelona shoves into the room, hops up on the bed, and yeowls in Otabek's face. Otabek, eyes still closed, reaches for the cat and flips to his side. "Shhh. You'll wake Yura up." Barcelona shoves himself closer against Otabek's exposed abs and closes his eyes.

Yuri is presented with a dilemma. He can either exit quietly, drop breakfast off in the kitchen, and return with his phone to take a million pictures, or he can wake Otabek up before the food gets cold and proceed with his plan to learn everything about Otabek there is to know. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, uncertain, until the floor creaks and Otabek opens his eyes. "Uh, I made breakfast," Yuri says, raising up the plates.

When Otabek shifts to sit up, Yuri gets a quick view of paradise. He is never going anywhere without his phone again.

"Looks good." Otabek hefts himself out of bed and takes a plate from Yuri. "Let's go eat at the table."

Yuri follows behind Otabek, watching the fabric alternately cling to and fall away from Otabek's ass. Maybe it's best, Yuri decides, if the internet never sees this. "Hey," Yuri says once they're seated. "What do you usually eat?" He crooks a thumb toward the fridge. "There's nothing but boring shit in there."

Otabek finishes chewing a piece of sausage before answering. "Something like this." He gestures to his plate. "I can only make simple dishes."

"Grandpa taught me how to cook some really tasty stuff. Let's go to the store! I can cook for you while I'm here." The idea of going to a store and picking out food together is somehow more exciting than Yuri's previous plan of dragging Otabek to secluded spots around town and making out. "What do you like to eat?" Grandpa once said he wooed Yuri's grandmother with home cooked meals and repaired appliances. Maybe that's how Yuri needs to approach Otabek.

"Anything's fine." Otabek shovels more food into his mouth. There is a brief silence while they both chew. "This is better than when I make it. Too bad you can't make me breakfast every day." Otabek frowns then continues to eat.

"If you'd just move to St. Petersburg, then I could," Yuri grumbles. He wants to hide his face because he knows he's blushing. The scene is all too clear in his head. He wakes up early, slides out of bed, makes them breakfast. Otabek gets up a little bit later and enters the kitchen scratching at his stomach. He slides up behind Yuri in the kitchen and kisses his cheek before telling Yuri how good breakfast smells. Yuri smacks him away from the bacon sitting on the counter to drain away a little bit more grease. Otabek sets the table and makes them some morning tea. When they're done, they wash the dishes together and play in the water. Otabek spins him around, pressing his back against the counter and taking his lips softly at first, but more hungrily as Yuri's hands start to--

Fuck, he's beginning to think like Viktor. Any moment now he's going to start balding and getting naked for no real reason. Otabek deserves better than creepy domestic pervert plans.

"You're falling asleep at the table. Go get some more rest." Otabek clears the table while Yuri stares straight ahead, trying to clear his mind of his pornographic fantasy. 

The water in the kitchen starts to run, and Yuri turns to see nearly naked Otabek washing dishes. Unlike Yuri's fantasy Otabek, the real Otabek maintains perfect posture while doing the dishes and doesn't splash any water. He washes one dish at a time and dries it immediately.

Yuri's legs take him into the kitchen of their own accord. His hands reach out to circle around Otabek's chest. Resting his cheek against Otabek's back, Yuri sighs. He's relieved that Otabek has the slightest stank of body odor in the morning, that the solid perfection of the Hero of Kazakhstan is slightly muted. "Shit," he says into Otabek's skin, "Why the fuck do you have to be so fucking amazing?" He drops a soft kiss to Otabek's back. "Do you know how stupid I am? I was just sitting there thinking about how fucking awesome it would be if we could live together and eat breakfast together every day. I got so damn happy just thinking about it. What kind of idiot gets that happy about eating breakfast and washing dishes with someone?"

Otabek turns around in Yuri's hold and tilts Yuri's chin up until their eyes meet. "This idiot."

Yuri gasps when Otabek grabs the back of his head, pushing him forward until their lips meet. There is little soft and delicate about their kiss this time. Otabek's fingers are tight in Yuri's hair, pulling it this way and that until Yuri's head is positioned to Otabek's liking. Yuri's grateful for the guidance because he honestly has no clue how he's supposed to coordinate his limbs or even think with one of Otabek's hands running circles over his hip, Otabek's other hand in his hair, and Otabek's tongue sliding through his mouth as if it's trying to map out every ridge and cavern.

Just as quickly as it begins, it's over. Otabek turns back to the dishes, leaving Yuri clinging to him, forehead pressed against Otabek's back while he catches his breath. "You're trying to kill me," Yuri decides. "My heart can't take much more of this on and off shit."

"We'll go to the market this afternoon. Think about what you want to cook."

"Did you even hear what I've been saying?" Yuri pounds his fists against Otabek's back.

"If your heart can't take it," Otabek says, still washing dishes, "just give your heart to me. I'll make sure it's safe."

Yuri stomps off to the living room to make a grocery list and let his red face cool down. As he leaves, he yells, "Take a shower when you're done! You stink!"

Otabek doesn't turn away from the sink, but he raises his thumbs up high enough for Yuri to see.


	3. Things Inside Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...the rating got a bit of a change. Please be mindful of it, particularly in future chapters. See you next weekend.

The local market isn't far from Otabek's apartment. They walk side by side, not talking and not touching one another. Yuri's thinking about what they'll need to buy for lunch and for meals the remaining two days of his stay. Otabek is scowling at the world, walking with his fists closed tightly around some shopping totes. He looks kind of pissed off, so Yuri doesn't want to ask him what he wants to eat or what's wrong or how Yuri can help Otabek get rid of whatever's bothering him. Yuri's a little afraid that he, somehow, is the reason Otabek is scowling. 

"Mr. Altin! Good to see you!" One of the shop clerks waves to Otabek, and he waves back. The scowl from outside melts into a neutral expression.

"Good to see you, too," Otabek calls back. "What's on sale today?"

The clerk lists off some sale items. Otabek listens and nods every now and then, and Yuri watches how Otabek interacts with the nice looking woman but can't see any sign that she's anything to Otabek other than the lady that works at the grocery market. "Do you want to get any of that for lunch today?" Yuri asks. "Is there anything special you want me to make?"

"Whatever you want to make is fine," Otabek says. "I'm not a picky eater." 

They wander through the aisles and, slowly, the awkwardness dissolves. Whatever stick was up Otabek's ass dislodges itself, and the man points out a few of his favorite items, which Yuri immediately adds into the basket. They make several rounds, repeating aisles at Yuri's insistence, just in case they've forgotten something. In reality, Yuri just loves how comfortable and right it feels for them to be passing the shopping basket back and forth so their arms don't tire out, one of them putting a sweet snack in, the other taking the treat out because diets still matter, even in the off season. Yuri learns that Otabek has a strange weakness for chocolate hazelnut spread and rice crackers. Yuri admits that the only thing that could make him love gummi bears more is if they were gummi cats.

Otabek insists on carrying the bags on their walk home. "We should eat a light lunch," he says. "Dinner will be very big." Otabek swings the grocery totes as he walks, and his face is relaxed, turned up toward the sun.

"I've got the perfect idea. You're gonna love it." At least he hopes Otabek will love it. It will suck if he talked a big game about his cooking skills and then fucks up making a simple lunch. It might be impossible now, but Yuri and Otabek are definitely going to live together some day, and when they do, Yuri wants Otabek to feel comfortable letting Yuri take care of him sometimes. Yuri isn't stupid; he can already tell that Otabek is the kind of guy who likes to be in control and think he's providing for his family, but the guy is kinda dumb and needs someone to take care of him. Yuri is that person. All he has to do is figure out how to get that past Otabek's thick skull and into his brain. 

*****

'Nice' is an understatement for the restaurant Otabek picks for them. There's valet parking, even for Otabek's motorcycle, and the walk to the front door is peppered with what have to be lazy paparazzi waiting for some important people to come by.

"Mr. Altin!" A few of them shout out, but Otabek moves forward into the restaurant, so Yuri does the same. They're both trained in the art of the neutral press photo; any shots the reporters get will look amazing and be completely harmless.

"Let me show you to your table, Mr. Altin. It's an honor to have you dining with us tonight. We wish you and Mr. Plisetsky all the best when the new season begins." Yuri is impressed that the host knows who they are without having to be told. More specifically, he's impressed that the host knows Yuri's name. Otabek is a national treasure; Yuri is just another competitor in a sport that generally only garners interest in the Olympic years. "My name is Serik. Your server will be Aliya. Can I order you anything to drink?"

Otabek sits and accepts a menu. "Just water to start." 

"Same," Yuri says. While the outside looked expensive in a modern way, the inside of the restaurant looks antique, like somebody bought out an old European castle and shipped it all back to Almaty. The chair Yuri is sitting on could probably pay Grandpa's rent for half a year. The table is small enough that Yuri and Otabek could hold hands in the middle of the table without leaning forward if they were so inclined. 

The menu isn't actually a menu; there are only three options: vegetarian, meat, and senior. Each option is eight courses, and Yuri now understands why Otabek insisted they get to the restaurant no later than 5:30 in order to have time to eat everything. "You'll like the desserts here," Otabek says. "This restaurant is one of my sponsors, so I try to come here when I can." He gives one of those soft smiles Yuri loves so much. "They may ask to take some pictures for their website. I'll make sure they don't get you in them."

"It's fine if I'm in them." In fact, Yuri prefers it. He wants as many pictures of him and Otabek in the public eye as possible to deter anyone from trying to challenge his claim. 

"Good evening sirs, I'll be your server tonight. My name is Aliya." She takes their course orders and drink orders then makes some small talk. "Oh, Mr. Altin, Mrs. Sapiyev wanted me to get your permission for a member of the press to ask you some questions and take some photos as publicity for the restaurant."

Otabek waits for Yuri's nod of acceptance before saying, "It would be my pleasure."

It takes the reporter exactly two minutes to appear and pull up a chair, sitting on the side of the table between Otabek and Yuri. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," she says. Her eyes roam over Otabek's chest, and Yuri watches Otabek completely fail to notice it. "It's an honor to meet the both of you." When she turns to regard Yuri, he knows what she sees: a kid that she doesn't think has it in him to stay the course in the sport. Like so many others, this hag thinks Yuri's going to choke when his body starts getting taller and his balance shifts. Well, fuck her. He's already getting taller, and he's adapting just fine. Yuri's going to skate his ass off through all of it and be an even bigger relic than Viktor before he retires.

"Thank you for deciding to feature the Onyx Moon. They are one of my cherished sponsors, and their food is beyond compare, as I'm sure you're aware."

Wow. Yuri's never heard Otabek sound so fancy before. Usually he just answers in single sentences or glares when the press ask him questions at competitions. Maybe he has a special store of prepared comments to give the press when he's talking about his sponsors.

"I'll begin the interview now. Mr. Altin, the Onyx Moon has long been considered a couples destination. Have you ever brought your special someone here?"

Yuri smiles. Maybe the direct approach is a Kazakh thing and not just an Otabek thing.

"Honestly, I've never had a special someone to bring." Otabek's eyes quickly flit to Yuri's. "I focused on my skating while most people my age were going on dates and creating relationships." Yuri doesn't at all like the awkward look on Otabek's face. It's like he's going to be sick. "I guess I fell behind."

"Seriously?" Yuri can't control his volume, and the other patrons look toward him after his outburst. "You've never even been on a date?" How the fuck is Otabek so good at kissing and making Yuri feel like a hormonal ball of goop if he's never been on a date?

There is no deceit in Otabek's eyes when he turns to Yuri, holds his gaze, and says, "I have zero experience. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do on a date besides what I've seen in movies, and I'm given to understand that the cinema isn't the most realistic portrayal of the human condition."

Well shit, that explains a few things.

"I know all the women of Kazakhstan would be willing to teach you, Mr. Altin. What qualities are you looking for in a partner?"

Otabek shrugs. "Nothing specific. I guess it would be nice to have a partner who can cook. Maybe someone who can do my social media for me so I don't have to go near it." Otabek's face is stoic. Under the table, his foot taps Yuri's. "If I ever have a partner, I want it to be someone who's comfortable with my quiet lifestyle but who will make sure I try something adventurous every now and then." Otabek's lifestyle is anything but quiet. Anyone whose hobby is being a DJ doesn't live a quiet life. Nobody who can heat Yuri's blood to boiling just by tapping his ankle under a table is leading a quiet life.

"You're right," the reporter says. "That's not very specific at all."

As the interview continues, Otabek shares some anecdotes about the competition circuit and thanks his family and sponsors for supporting him. He mentions how his fans are his cherished motivation. And, at the very end of it all, he says, "And I'm happy to finally share the wonderful food of the Onyx Moon with my best friend, Yuri Plisetsky."

The first course arrives, no doubt timed to perfection to keep Otabek's interview from taking too long. The reporter thanks them both, takes a couple of photos, and exits out the front of the restaurant. 

"I'm glad that's over," Otabek sighs.

Yuri taps Otabek's foot under the table. "You rocked it. I bet this place gets a ton more business and they raise your sponsorship next season." 

"That would be nice. They're my oldest supporters. I don't know if I'd be able to skate without them, and I'm nowhere near ready to retire." Otabek sips his water. "There is so much more to do. I have to get stronger."

Reaching across the table, Yuri takes Otabek's hand. "I get it." He squeezes then lets go before anyone in the restaurant notices. "We'll both get stronger."

They let the conversation move away from skating. They talk about Otabek's family, the different kinds of meals the Onyx Moon serves, and their feelings about a few popular songs. Yuri wants to revisit Otabek's lack of dating experience and ask if that's why things between them keep stalling out, but it isn't something they should be talking about in public. Later, if he's not stuck in a food coma, he'll bring it up. He's still determined to leave his virginity behind when he boards the plane back to St. Petersburg, and now, more than ever, he refuses to leave as anything less than the boyfriend and mutually agreed upon future husband of Otabek Altin.

*****

They both wake up early because Barcelona throws a fit in the hallway, yowling until they both rush out of bed to see what is wrong. It turns out one of Barcelona's toys slid under the closet door and is now unacceptably out of reach. Yuri doesn't comment on Otabek's continued use of his deliciously skimpy shorts, and Otabek doesn't realize what a nice show he makes when he bends down to pick up Barcelona's toy from the closet floor and throw it down the hall. After Barcelona is happy, Otabek takes a shower and Yuri makes breakfast.

"What are we doing today?" Yuri asks after breakfast is done and the dishes are cleaned.

Otabek smiles. "It's a surprise. Make sure you wear something you don't mind getting dirty." He grimaces. "Will you be able to make a lunch we can take with us on the bike, or do we need to go buy something?"

Yuri runs through yesterday's purchases and quickly makes a picnic friendly menu. "I've got us covered." Wouldn't it be nice to go to a secluded spot in the woods where they can spread out a blanket and sprawl out under the trees? Yuri doubts that's Otabek's plan, though. "When do you want to leave?"

"We'll leave in two hours. Traffic should clear out by then." Otabek looks like he wants to say more, but he clams up, frowns, then retreats to the living room to play with Barcelona.

They can either have this conversation now, or they can spend the rest of the day feeling awkward and ruining their time together. Otabek clearly isn't going to man up and do what needs to be done, so it's up Yuri. "Right," he tells the kitchen counter, "let's get this over with." He follows Otabek and stands next to him. For a few minutes, he just watches Otabek rub Barcelona's belly, smiling with a relaxed face that is so rare that Yuri almost feels guilty for disturbing it. "Look," Yuri begins, "I know you probably don't mean to be an asshole, but you're confusing the shit out of me."

"Yuri, I don't think--"

"Just listen for a second." Yuri went over this speech in his head while cooking their breakfast and, while it probably isn't the most elegant way to put his feelings, it's the only way he can say the whole truth in a manner he thinks Beka will understand. He clears his throat to get rid of the nerves and continues at Otabek's nod of agreement. "I came down here because I thought you were stupid and just wanted to be friends. I don't want to be your friend. I want you to kiss me and fuck me and eat the food I make for you. I want us to live together and have a million fat cats that wake us up for stupid shit like toys stuck in the closet. I want the bitches at the grocery store to look at how fucking gorgeous you are and weep in fucking despair because everyone knows you're mine and you'll never be anyone else's." He takes a few breaths because he's starting to get dizzy. "Sometimes, I think you want those things, too, but then you get all weird and push me away."

It looks like Otabek is about to say something, but he just takes a deep breath and nods for Yuri to keep going.

This next bit is terrifying. Yuri doesn't really want to say it out loud because, once he does, he can't take it back. It's possible he might be ruining everything. "Shit," he growls. "This is going to sound stupid, and fuck you for making me have to say this, but I love you." There. It's out.

The silence in the room is deep and long. 

"Yuri, I--" Otabek looks like he's going to vomit. "I don't think I can--"

The idiot is thinking about this too much. Yuri is prepared. "Do you want me or not?"

"Of course I do, but I don't think you--"

"Do you love me or not?"

"Yes," Otabek's reply is almost a growl. "But you don't understand that--"

Yuri holds up a hand to stop whatever bullshit excuse Otabek is going to use. "If you want me and you love me, then what the fuck is freaking you out?"

Otabek is full on glaring now. It should be frightening, but the feeling roiling around in Yuri's belly definitely isn't fear; it's more like the feeling he gets right before a jump reaches max acceleration. "Can I talk now?" Otabek asks.

Okay, now Yuri is just a little bit frightened.

It takes Otabek a few seconds to compose himself. "I want you, but if we keep going on like this, I'm going to hurt you. There's--" He trails off and runs his hands over his face, breathes in, breathes out. "There's something wrong with me. Every time I touch you, I want to do so many things to you, and I know it's disgusting and you'll hate me for it." He turns his face away and continues. "When we brought Barcelona home, I was stupid and I bit you. You've still got a mark on your shoulder." He rubs at his face again. "I...giving you that mark made me so happy, turned me on so much." Otabek looks at Yuri now, and he looks like he's going to cry. "Do you know what I thought this morning when I saw you with your shirt off? Do you know what the first thought in my head was?"

Yuri shakes his head because he is starting to understand just how little he knows about what's going on in Otabek's head.

"I thought that I needed to do a better job next time so it won't fade so fast. That if I didn't fix my screw up, somebody might come along and touch you." Otabek closes his eyes tightly. His hands are clenched into fists, and his arms are vibrating with tension. "It's disgusting, isn't it? You're absolutely perfect, and all I want to do is damage you." 

When the first tear slides down Otabek's cheek, Yuri launches himself across the floor and pulls Otabek into an embrace, rocking the man gently. "Asshole," he whispers into Otabek's ear. "You're freaking out just because you want some kind of kinky shit?" Yuri sounds confident, but he doesn't really know anything about it, either. All he knows is that he'll do whatever it takes to ensure Otabek is never this upset again. "Did you not feel how hard I was after you bit me? Do you think I would put up with something I didn't want?" It's mostly true, though Yuri has put up with a lot of things he doesn't want recently just to appease Otabek. "What part of I fucking love you didn't you understand?"

Otabek snorts in some mucus. "That's not everything." Otabek's body is still trembling; Yuri holds him tighter. "We live too far away. You'll get tired of me being...of the things I want from you, and then the season will start and you'll realize you don't have time for someone like me." When Otabek takes a deep breath this time, it rattles with frustration and snot. "You can find someone better, so we should just be friends. I'll control myself better moving forward so--"

Yuri shoves his hand over Otabek's mouth and squeezes. "Shut the fuck up and listen. You're obviously an idiot who doesn't deserve me, but as of this moment you do not have a choice." Yuri leans forward and bites hard into Otabek's jaw. The angle is awkward and he tastes a little bit of blood, but he's got a point to make so it doesn't fucking matter. "See how you didn't die? See how you'll be able to skate just fine? See how few shits I give what anyone is going to think about seeing this on your face?" Yuri pulls Otabek's face to his shoulder, right above the fading mark Otabek is freaking out over. "Do it."

"Yuri, no."

Yuri grabs Otabek's hand and pushes it onto the growing bulge under his sleep pants. "I'm not fucking pitying you, asshole. Get that through your damn stupid thick skull and just DO IT ALREADY!"

Otabek pushes Yuri back and settles his body over him. "So perfect," he whispers and trails a hand delicately along the side of Yuri's face before bending down and biting hard over the fading mark. Yuri arches up, gasping. Otabek's teeth are still clamped onto him lightly when Otabek's hand begins to move slowly over Yuri's clothed erection. Yuri writhes on the floor, his body undulating between Otabek's hand and his mouth. Otabek's teeth release Yuri's shoulder, but he's sucking along Yuri's skin now, dropping kisses and moving back to deepen the hue of the mark on Yuri's shoulder every now and then. "You're so beautiful," Otabek whispers. The gentle kiss to Yuri's forehead is the last straw that sends Yuri into a cascade of sensation. He twitches under Otabek then stills, catching his breath while Otabek slides a hand through Yuri's hair. 

"Fuck," Yuri manages once he's able to speak again. "We could have been doing this shit the entire time?" He slaps at Otabek's chest. "You really are an asshole."

Otabek moves from over Yuri and scoots away. "Yuri, that's not everything I want to--"

"Are you seriously going to sit there and try to break up with me after jerking me off?" Yuri tries to get up but his limbs refuse. He has to settle for rolling over to Otabek and resting his head on the other man's thigh. "As soon as my legs aren't gelatin, I'm gonna take a shower, get dressed, and make us some lunch. Then you're taking me out on a date to wherever the fuck it is you wanted to take me today. If something bugs you, just tell me and we'll deal with it. No more freaking out by yourself inside your head."

It takes a while before Otabek nods and says, "Okay."


	4. You're So Photogenic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are again, folks. Welcome to your weekly dose of...this. You know, I should probably change the synopsis to something more functional. *sigh* Maybe next time.

It isn't until he's staring at himself in the mirror after his shower that Yuri decides he's actually okay with everything that's happening between him and Otabek. Staring at his reflection in the foggy mirror, he sees the large mark on his shoulder, too big and well formed to be anything other than a lover's mark. He runs his fingers over it, expecting it to sting and surprised when it doesn't. Well, the little digs where Otabek's teeth sank in are a little tender, but the constant ache in his feet from skating is a lot worse.

He...likes it. He likes that he has something on his body to remind him that he can shatter the calm shell that Otabek shows to the world. He likes, even more, that he's the only one who will ever get to see Otabek like that, wild and hungry and fierce. Everyone thinks that Otabek is quiet, doesn't want to make a fuss, maybe thinks himself better than everyone else. Yuri knows, now, that there's a layer of insecurity and likely a quiet desire for someone, anyone to just _try_ and start something, just so Otabek can feel the satisfaction of ripping someone to shreds. Otabek feels on the inside what Yuri shows on the outside, and Yuri, he admits to himself and only to himself, can sometimes feel on the inside what Otabek shows on the outside. 

All it really means is that they're perfect together and, even though this is the first time Yuri's ever considered having a relationship with another human being that doesn't revolve around skating, Yuri knows that Otabek is also the only person he'll ever want in his life. If someone else tried to push him down and suck at his skin, Yuri would kick the guy in the crotch and maul his eyes out.

As the fog clears, Yuri continues to stand and stare at himself. He wants to show this mark off, he decides. He's proud of the courage Otabek showed to give it to him, the trust Beka has in Yuri that allowed him to show a side of himself that he's (stupidly) ashamed of. Yuri wants everyone to see this bright purple spot standing out against his pale skin and know that Yuri Plisetsky is taken, sold to the Hero of Kazakhstan. 

He grabs his camera off the counter and takes a quick selfie, careful that the mark is just at the bottom of the photo. "Ready for another great day!" he types as the caption to his post. He's smiling wider than usual in the picture, but there's a touch of mischief in his eyes, so maybe nobody will pick up on the fact that the most volatile skater on the world scene is posting a photo to preen over how much his boyfriend loves him.

"Yura! Are you done?" Otabek knocks on the bathroom door. 

Yuri wraps a towel around his waist and opens the door. "Yeah. Need the bathroom?"

"I'm fine." Otabek's eyes are on Yuri's shoulder. He probably doesn't realize that he's licking his lips. "Are you going to be ready soon?"

Seeing the hungry look in Otabek's eyes has Yuri ready right now. "Just need to take care of a few more things in here," Yuri says. He grabs for Otabek's shoulders and pulls himself up to Otabek's lips. Otabek's arms wrap around him, and Yuri's skin heats up at the contact. 

Otabek pulls away a bit. "We need to get going if we're going to get there on time." He bends down and places a light kiss on Yuri's love mark. "You're beautiful," he whispers into Yuri's ear then smacks Yuri on the ass. "Get dressed so we can go."

Yuri grins at Otabek's retreating back, knowing exactly who, of the two of them, is the beautiful one.

*****

"I can understand why he did it," Otabek says, "but it's very frustrating." Otabek looks up to the sky, takes a deep breath, then continues. "This is why I hate social media."

The fluffy yellow chick on Otabek's hand flaps its wings and hops closer to him, rubbing against his nose. It chirps joyfully and snuggles again.

"I'm right here," Yuri grumbles. "You don't need to reprimand me to a damn baby bird."

"I told him that he couldn't post any more photos today," Otabek continues. He rubs his nose against the chick. "It's hard for him, but he's doing well." He looks up to Yuri. "I'm proud of him."

Shit, why does Otabek have to look so damn handsome, even when he's got his face smooshed against a baby chicken? 

"We sell the chicks, if you're interested." A helper in overalls with a"Petting Zoo Staff" badge walks up to Otabek, clearly interested in more than selling chickens. "I'm sure the owners would be more than happy to offer you a discount, Mr. Altin." He looks up and down the length of Otabek's body, and it takes all the muscle control Yuri has not to claw the asshole's eyes out. "It's an honor to have an athlete of your caliber visit us."

Otabek turns, his face still pressed against the chicken. "Our cat would eat him." He looks at Yuri. "Maybe we'll get a few once we get a house." He turns back to the chick, rubbing his nose in its down. "Sorry we can't take you with us," he whispers. "You'll get a good home, though."

"We'll definitely get a few once we get a house." Yuri grins at the rejected staff boy. "Thanks for your help." Yuri lets his boat-neck t-shirt slip down his shoulder a bit. "Can I hold him?" He holds out his hands so Otabek can pass him the chick. "He's so soft!" There wasn't a lot of time for places like this when he was growing up, and it felt kind of lame to go by himself, so he's never been to a real petting zoo. So far, he's played with cows and goats. He was going to skip the chickens, but Otabek insisted. Yuri now suspects the chicks are Otabek's favorites.

Otabek slides up behind Yuri and rests his chin on Yuri's shoulder. "Do you mind?" he asks.

Yuri leans back and shifts the chick into one hand, raising it between them. He grabs for his phone with his free hand. "Can I?" Otabek hums an affirmative and begins snuggling the chick again. Yuri rests his head against Otabek's and snaps a few shots before turning to press a kiss against Otabek's hair. "You don't care if people see us?" he asks. "Nobody's going to lose their shit if they see me kiss you in public? You won't get in trouble or lose sponsorship?"

"It's fine," Otabek says. "You don't mind, and that's all that matters."

Yuri feels like there's somehow a medal above gold, and he's just won it. "Let's go see the sheep next."

Otabek takes the chick from Yuri and turns to the slightly gawking staff boy. "Can I take this with me?" he asks. "I'll bring it back later."

"Of course, Mr. Altin." The guy's eyes flash quickly over to Yuri. "You can return him to this area when you're ready."

Yuri winks and the guy's face flames up. "Thanks," Yuri says before running to Otabek's side and taking his arm. "To the sheep!" he insists.

"I'm going to call him Mr. McFluff," Otabek decides. He snuggles the chicken. "He can stay with my parents until we get a house."

Yuri takes the chicken out of Otabek's hands and returns it to the staff boy. "Sheep," he insists before Otabek can voice his discontent at losing Mr. McFluff. "If I can't post photos, you can't buy any more pets. Barcelona will get jealous."

Otabek doesn't say anything all the way to the sheep pen. Only Yuri knows that his stoic expression is a pout.

*****

"It's nice to meet you. I appreciate your support."

Yuri watches Otabek greet a small group of fans. The group of three girls and two guys kept a respectful distance while Yuri and Otabek ate their lunch at the park, but they began to edge closer as Otabek started packing their things up. Yuri doesn't mind the intrusion too much.

"This is my partner, Yuri Plisetsky. I'm sure you've seen him before."

Yuri waves to the shocked fans then continues to clean up their picnic site. That's the third time today Otabek's used that introduction, and it still shoots sparks through Yuri's nerves to hear it. After they went to see the sheep, fans kept approaching to take photos with and meet Otabek. Most of them knew who Yuri was, but none of them paid him much mind, choosing instead to focus on flirting with Otabek. One of the fans told them that some magazine article last month proclaimed Otabek to be the Best Husband Material in Kazakhstan. The girl was a little younger than Otabek and at the farm with her boyfriend, who looked strikingly similar to Otabek and seemed pretty pissed that the real thing was interrupting his date. The guy's attitude perked up when Yuri grabbed Otabek's arm and said, "Guess that magazine should have checked their sources. Otabek's not available."

"Wow! Yuri Plisetsky! You're so good!" The group politely asks for photos with the two men then leave Yuri and Otabek in peace. Yuri doesn't even want to think about what will happen when Yuri introduces Otabek to the Angels the next time they mob him. Maybe he and Otabek can just run away again.

"Are you having a good time?" Otabek flops back onto the grass and stretches. His shirt rides up to reveal a slip of smooth skin.

Yuri closes his eyes so he'll stop thinking about how badly he wants to put his mouth all over that little patch of skin. Once he's under control, he looks at Otabek and smiles. "This is the best."

Otabek takes his phone from his pocket and takes a picture. He grunts then takes another one. Finally, he tosses the phone onto the grass. "My pictures suck."

Yuri drops to the ground and takes up the phone. "I'll show you how." He straddles Otabek's lap and points the camera down. "Just hold it steady and make the picture a little off center." He takes a photo and reviews it. Otabek looks up at him from the screen with a deep, hungry gaze. He sends the photo to himself before he deletes it off Otabek's phone. There's no way he ever wants anyone to see Otabek like that, so he'll just keep the photo safe on his phone. "It was blurry," he says. "Let me try again." He takes another picture and it winds up just like the last. "Dammit, Beka, just look at me normal. Stop making these weird bedroom eyes."

"You're sitting on my dick. How am I supposed to look at you?" 

This time, the picture is Otabek looking slightly pissed off. It is somehow sexier than the last. Yuri gives up. "Forget it. Your usual crappy pictures are fine." He tosses the phone down beside Otabek and stands up. "They had a sign for horseback riding. I wanna try it." So Otabek has some time to compose himself, Yuri takes the picnic setup to Otabek's motorcycle and locks everything away before coming back to get Otabek. Once that's done, they head back into the petting zoo so Yuri can take more pictures and Otabek can keep reminding him not to post them.

*****

Yuri can launch himself into the air, spin for four rotations, and land with no problem. He cannot, however, manage to sit on a horse and take pictures of Otabek riding a horse at the same time. Sweet Bluebell is a very nice mare and doesn't trample him when he falls into a puddle of muck; she stops and waits for him to fish his phone out of the mud and climb back on. 

Otabek has no problems taking photos and riding. Otabek looks like he's ridden on horses all his life and could fall asleep in the saddle and still look manly enough for the girls hugging the sides of the riding area to go weak in the knees. "Okay?" Otabek asks, pulling his horse up beside Yuri's. 

"I'm covered in mud and watered down horse shit. I'm great, thanks."

Otabek takes another picture. "Let's go get you cleaned up." He nods toward the barn area.

Otabek buys Yuri a disgusting red and yellow t-shirt with Iskakov Family Farm and Petting Zoo spelled out in animals on the chest. They hustle into a surprisingly clean accessibility restroom and begin wetting paper towels to get the dirt off the back of Yuri's head. Halfway through, Yuri yanks his dirty shirt off and uses it to scrub away at his arms. "I feel so disgusting," Yuri growls. He hopes the dirt won't stain his shirt; it's one of his favorites.

"You look beautiful." Otabek takes the shirt from Yuri's hand and tosses it toward the sink.

Yuri slaps at Otabek's arm when it curls around him. "If you touch me, you'll get covered in mud."

"I'm fine with that." 

Yuri finds himself pulled tight against Otabek's chest and held there with one strong arm. He doesn't resist, but Otabek's grip is still firm; Yuri can see the strain of his muscles in the mirror. Fuck, why are they standing like this in front of a mirror?

"We look good together. You should take a picture." Otabek hands Yuri his phone. "You take better selfies than I do." He leans his head in against Yuri's. "Take it now," he whispers, and Yuri complies. He kisses Yuri's neck just under his jaw. "Again."

"Beka," Yuri hisses. Otabek's free hand is trailing around Yuri's stomach, tracing the muscles beneath with neatly clipped fingernails. Yuri presses his ass back against Otabek and moans at the solid resistance he encounters. "Beka," he whimpers.

"Again."

Yuri isn't even aiming the camera, just clicking the button when Otabek tells him to. He can't focus on anything except how hot Otabek's mouth feels as it roams his neck and how he hopes that those stupid wandering fingers get a clue and stop torturing him.

Otabek nips at Yuri's neck at the same time he slides Yuri's pants down to mid-thigh. "Again."

"Ah!" Yuri presses the button just as Otabek's hand wraps around him.

"Look up." Otabek uses his cheek to nudge Yuri's gaze up to the mirror in front of them. "See how beautiful you are." He slowly slides his hand down Yuri's length and pauses at the end, giving a tight squeeze. "You're amazing." He nips at Yuri's neck. "Again."

Yuri's hand is shaking, and he's pretty sure he's going to drop Otabek's phone. "Beka, I can't. I'm...my arms are…"

Otabek releases his hold on Yuri's abdomen and takes the phone. "Put your hands up around my neck."

The position stretches Yuri out more, and he can't bring himself to look at his reflection. "This is so embarrassing," he mumbles, turning his face away. He can't tell when Otabek takes pictures now. He prays they all turn out like most of Otabek's photos: blurry and at weird angles. 

"Why are you embarrassed?" He continues to stroke Yuri slowly, putting in a twist every now and then.

"We're doing this in the bathroom of a family farm. There could be kids outside." Or paparazzi. Or fans. Or the owners. Or the police.

Otabek's grip tightens and his pace increases. Yuri barely manages to keep his scream in. "Anyone could be outside," Otabek agrees. "I don't care about them." He bites down then licks at the spot under Yuri's jaw. "Look how ready you are."

Yuri glances up into the mirror and meets Otabek's eyes. He's taken aback by the hunger and satisfaction he sees and, beneath it all, a solid backdrop of joy. It's the last that spills him over the edge. His body convulses back against Otabek and his release sprays to the floor and drips down Otabek's hand. He can barely breathe, and the only things keeping him standing are his now-precarious grip on Otabek's neck and the return of Otabek's arm around his chest, holding him tight and safe.

Otabek nuzzles the back of Yuri's head. "I can't wait to see how the pictures turned out."


	5. Pornography Lies

They get home, shower, and Yuri starts dinner while Otabek tends to Barcelona. "I'm pretty good with money," Yuri says as he's chopping vegetables. "If you were serious about getting a house together, we should start a savings plan." Of course, if Otabek was just saying all that stuff in the heat of the moment, Yuri is going to sound like a nerd and a freak.

"This early?" Otabek rinses a cat food tin and places it into recycling. "We're not buying it right now."

Otabek clearly has no idea what it costs to buy and keep up a house. Why would he? He's been living in dorms most of his life. He's probably never even seen his family's monthly bills. The tiny apartment he lives in now probably has water and sewage covered, maybe even gas costs. Yuri knows, because he's been shoveling money into accounts to pay for things since he was small, exactly what it takes to pay the bills...and what happens when you can no longer afford the bills and have to downsize.

"If we want to get a place with enough room for the cats and your little backyard farm, we need to start saving now." Yuri doesn't think they'll be able to save a lot because Otabek is living off sponsorship right now, but something is better than nothing.

Otabek rubs his hand over Yuri's back. "And room for your grandpa," he says. "Do you think he'll like the chickens?"

Yuri has a sudden vision of coming home to see Grandpa and Otabek in the backyard collecting eggs. Grandpa is telling Otabek about growing up in poverty and what he and Grandma had to do to provide for their children during dark times. Yuri just watches them talk and gather eggs, and they both smile at him when they notice he's there, but then they turn back to each other and keep working. Grandpa explains the best feed mixture for the chickens, and Otabek asks, very seriously, if Grandpa knows of a rooster they can borrow so they can have a few chicks this year. "He'll love them," Yuri says as the image fades. He pauses his chopping and leans back to give Otabek a quick kiss on the chin. "We can start by each deciding what we can spare monthly, then we'll start working toward a more solid goal in a couple years." 

"Why are you so perfect?" Otabek pats Yuri on the ass and moves to get the litter scoop. 

"If you're expecting me to be all demure and shit, forget it. I'm fucking awesome, and it's about damn time somebody noticed." Yuri sets his knife down and sweeps his hands to encompass his whole body. "This is the total package, and you're fucking lucky it's all for you. Set the table when you're done with the litter box."

Laughter isn't really the response Yuri is hoping for, but he'll take it; Otabek's laughter is a rare and beautiful thing.

*****

After dinner, Otabek cleans the dishes then changes into his little shorts. "What's the deal with the hotpants?" Yuri asks. "You might as well just walk around naked."

Otabek drops himself onto the sofa and shrugs. "My mom bought them for me when I moved away. I can't sleep naked if I'm sharing a room with someone."

"How many growth spurts ago was that?" Otabek's mom would probably have a heart attack if she saw her son parading around in those ass-hugging, crotch-clinging things now.

"It's too hot in the apartment for pants, and I don't have anything else. They've never been a problem before." Otabek looks down at the shorts. "They seem fine to me."

They only seem fine to Otabek because he has zero self awareness, and nobody's complained because they'd have to be stupid to give up a view like this. Well, it's Yuri's view now. "Never wear them in front of anyone else but me. Ever." Yuri climbs sideways onto Otabek's lap, kicking his feet up onto the sofa while he rests his head on Otabek's shoulder. "It's stupid how comfortable you are."

Otabek's arm loops around Yuri's waist, securing him in place. "I'll buy something else next time I go shopping."

"I'll order you something else right now and have it shipped to you." Yuri pulls out his phone and starts surfing websites. Barcelona jumps up and settles in the space between Yuri and Otabek's bodies. Otabek offers Yuri an earbud, and they sit together in peace. Yuri finds the most boring, junk-camouflaging, baggy-assed sleep shorts ever made and orders two pair with express delivery. They should arrive before he leaves tomorrow.

As the sounds of Otabek's recent musical experiments wash over him, Yuri can't help but think that it's strange to feel so content. He should be ripping Otabek's shorts off and demanding they go back to Otabek's room and rut all over the bed. But this is...better somehow. Maybe it's the two orgasms he's already had today, or maybe it's knowing that today isn't the last day. Well, it's the last day for a while, but not forever. Tomorrow is going to be shitty, and Yuri has no idea how he'll convince himself to pack his crap and get in the taxi tomorrow, but he'll find a way. He'll go back to St. Petersburg, train, and kick so much ass that stupid Viktor will retire for real just because he knows he'll never beat Yuri again. Never.

"Your face looks like you're constipated." Otabek's fingers smooth over Yuri's eyebrows. "What are you thinking about?"

Yuri tilts his head up and lips at Otabek's neck. "Just some agape bullshit," he says.

"Mmhm." Otabek tilts his head back, giving Yuri's lips more space to roam.

Barcelona doesn't appreciate Yuri's shifting. He walks away in a huff and perches at the far end of the sofa. "When you do that, it sounds like you're purring," Yuri says. He glides his tongue along Otabek's Adam's apple. Beneath him, he can feel Otabek begin to harden. "It's my turn to make you feel good," he says and then regrets it because it's corny and lame. How does Otabek come up with all that sexy shit? Is there a website he's studying?

"I'm all yours." Otabek spreads his arms out over the back of the couch and parts his legs slightly. "Within reason," he adds.

This is it. This is Yuri's opportunity to captivate Otabek with his carnal skill, ensuring Otabek's eyes will never wander and Yuri won't have to bust anyone's kneecaps for trying to steal his man. It's Yuri's opportunity to prove that he's in this thing just as much as Otabek is, so there's no need to freak out about anything. They can have all the sex they want in all the ways that they want, and Yuri is 100% fine with it all. 

He cannot, under any circumstances, fuck this up.

"You okay?" Otabek tucks a finger under Yuri's chin, bringing their eyes to meet. "You don't have to feel obli--"

"I'm just deciding where to start," Yuri interrupts before Otabek ruins the mood with his stupid-ass nobility that Yuri already knows is a damn lie. No truly noble guy would jerk his boyfriend off in the restroom of a family farm. Otabek is a wolf that forewent the sheep's clothing and went straight for impersonating a rock.

"Just feeling your body on mine is perfect." Otabek cants his hips up.

Seriously, where the fuck does he get these lines? All Yuri can think to say in response is, "Thanks," and he knows it's stupid, so he just latches onto Otabek's chest with his mouth instead of saying anything, intent on leaving his own mark just so Otabek knows that Yuri's still okay with whatever Otabek wants, too. 

At first, Yuri does everything he remembers Otabek doing to him. He kisses and nibbles and licks his way down Otabek's chest, sliding himself further back and, finally, down to the floor in front of the sofa. He rings his tongue around Otabek's belly button and smacks Otabek's hip to get him to lift up. The shorts don't come off in one yank; Yuri has to move and let Otabek wiggle out of them. 

Before he leaves, Yuri is either going to steal or throw out those shorts so Otabek can never wear them again. They're probably Yuri's size, actually, or they will be in a few more months if Yuri keeps growing. It would be wasteful to just throw them out.

Otabek sits back down, and Yuri's brain crashes.

Yuri has been thinking about Otabek's dick for months. He's never actually seen it before, but he's patched an idea of it together from several late nights watching internet pornography on his phone. Somehow, Yuri realizes, pornography has lied to him. Somehow, the simple dick that Yuri imagined (cut, a bit longer than his own, and a size that could reasonably fit in his ass with minimal agony) is completely off the mark. Otabek isn't monstrously long, but he's much thicker than he should be and...kind of crooked. If Yuri puts that in his mouth, it'll gag him or stab him in the sinus or something.

"Yura, you don't have to--"

"Shut up!" He's going to do this...somehow. He has to. He came here on a plane, all fired up to have sex with Otabek, and now there's a naked Otabek in front of him and he's freaking out because there is too much dick for him to handle. If he doesn't do this, Otabek will never--

"Yura, look at me." Otabek reaches forward and hauls Yuri onto his lap again. "What's wrong?"

"I...I'm not ready to do this," Yuri admits. God, he's such a loser. He just spent the day with Otabek's hand down his pants, and he's freaking out over seeing the other guy naked. This is so fucking absurd.

Otabek nods. "What would you like to do instead?" The guy is sitting on the sofa, a show of perfect calm.

Yuri buries his face in Otabek's neck. Otabek's scent is the strongest there, and it calms Yuri like the plug-in pheromones he had to buy when he first brought Potya home. "I just wanted to make you feel good," he mumbles, pushing even closer into Otabek.

Otabek nips at Yuri's ear before whispering, "Do you want me to show you what I like?" His tongue traces the shell of Yuri's ear. 

A nod is all Yuri can manage because his mouth is dry. He starts a bit when Otabek shifts him back, positioning them with a gap between them. Otabek takes Yuri's hand and guides it down to wrap around his shaft.

"Still okay?" Otabek asks.

Yuri's hand is shaking. "Yeah. This is okay." He moves his fingers, working some of the nerves out, and starts to catalog the feel of Otabek in his hand. It's kind of like the sausages Grandpa buys at the butcher in terms of solidity, only Otabek's body is burning hot, almost hot enough for Yuri's palms to be sweating from something other than nerves. Is that healthy? Maybe Otabek has a dick sickness that he doesn't know about. Should Yuri tell him? No, it's probably fine.

Otabek guides Yuri's hand up and down, squeezing a little bit harder on the up stroke. "Gentle for a while," Otabek says, removing his hand once Yuri's is maintaining the appropriate rhythm. "Kiss me."

They're a bit too far apart for Yuri to get a good angle, so he scoots in a bit more. The angle of his grip changes slightly, and his nail accidentally digs in, causing Otabek to hiss. "Fuck! Sorry!" He readjusts and gives Otabek the requested kiss, hoping it's enough to take his mind off Yuri gouging holes in his dick.

This is very different from anything Yuri's ever encountered. None of the videos showed slow, lazy kisses or slightly botched handjobs. They didn't mention that a guy can totally freak out and his only saving grace is a very patient, ludicrously wonderful boyfriend. 

Otabek's orgasm is stealthy. The only way Yuri knows it happens is the slow volcano of thick, hot seed that drizzles across his hand. Otabek doesn't even stop kissing Yuri, just runs his tongue through Yuri's mouth the whole time he's making a mess of the sofa cushion. 

Finally, after what feels like an aching eternity, Otabek lets Yuri breathe again. "That was perfect," he says while Yuri's brain tries to recover oxygen and reconcile his mental porno-world with reality. "Do you want to sleep in my room tonight? I have a surprise that I think you'll enjoy." Otabek's hands reach back and start smoothing up and down Yuri's back. 

Yuri nods. He wonders what he's supposed to do about the jizz on his hand. He doesn't want to wipe it on his pants, and he can't wipe it off on the cushion, so he either has to get up and wash his hands in the sink or go through whatever Otabek has planned with the gunk all over him. A globule slides further down his wrist, deciding it for him. "Is it cool if I clean up first?"

"I'll meet you in my room." Otabek nudges Yuri off of him and shimmies back into his shorts. "Make sure you bring your phone."


	6. Instagram Official

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I managed to pull myself out of the deadly loop of reading the WTTM manga and watching the video over and over and over, but it happened. Happily, we're almost through to the end of the fic. See you next weekend (^_^)

It takes them a few tries to find a comfortable position. Otabek piles pillows up behind himself and reclines. Yuri sits in front of him, lounging back against Otabek's chest. Otabek's legs are bent to give Yuri arm rests while he scrolls through all the texts he's been ignoring.

"I'd like to see the photos you took today after you're done with that." Otabek loops his arms around Yuri's stomach and pulls him just a fraction closer. 

None of the texts are that important, so Yuri flips over to his photo app and starts sliding through photos, occasionally deleting blurry ones. "You look cool in this one." He holds the picture up to Otabek.

"How can I look cool with a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth?" 

Yuri wants to say that Otabek looks cool because of the way his eyes are soft at the corners, making it look like he's just about to smile but is trying really hard not to. Otabek and his dangling toothbrush look the very picture of what Yuri would love to wake up to every morning, and that warm, fizzy feeling Yuri gets looking at the picture is awesome. "The angles and shadows and shit are good," is what Yuri says instead.

"Okay." Otabek shrugs and rests his chin on Yuri's shoulder. "What's next?"

Yuri keeps scrolling and deleting until he comes to a series of Otabek chicken photos. In one of them, Otabek and the chick are staring gravely at each other, nose to beak. It's clear that Otabek is communing with his chicken doppelganger. "This one is perfect," Yuri says. He holds it up for Otabek's inspection.

"It's okay." Otabek shrugs. His fingers start to wander across Yuri's stomach. "Since you took such good care of me this evening, you can post three pictures to your account."

"Any three I want, or are you going to get pissy if I post one you don't like?" Yuri knows that Beka is a master of passive-aggressive bullshit when he wants to be, and it's best for Yuri to shut that shit down before it even starts. There are so many sides to himself that Otabek keeps hidden from the public— even from his friends, really— and Yuri isn't going to violate Otabek's wish for privacy, but Otabek's going to have to get used to Yuri telling the world to keep their hands off his property. There are enough vultures on the skating circuit who would gladly poach Otabek for themselves, and Yuri's not letting any of them think, even for a moment, that they have a chance. None of those bastards understand a damn thing about Otabek, and none of them will ever be able to give Otabek everything that Yuri can. Once Yuri figures out how to consolidate all of that into a reasonable hashtag, he'll unleash his full Otabek ownership on the world.

Otabek blows a puff of air across Yuri's ear. "Are you listening?"

Yuri burrows impossibly deeper into Otabek's arms. "No." Yuri opens up his Instagram account and posts the picture of Otabek with the chick.

"Being adorable is serious business," Otabek murmurs in his ear, reading the caption as Yuri types it. He laughs and kisses Yuri's neck. "You would know."

Seriously, Yuri thinks, the idiot has no fucking self awareness at all. "You're not going to get pissy over hashtags, are you?"

"Any three, any way you want," Otabek says. 

Yuri quickly types in #Thismanismine and submits the post. "I'm not taking it down," Yuri warns.

"That's fine. What's next?"

Barcelona jumps on the bed and sits on top of Yuri's legs. While one hand thumbs through photos for the next post, the other hand digs deep into black fur, scratching along Barcelona's spine. Yuri decides on one of the photos he took while sitting on Otabek's lap earlier. In the image, they're sharing Otabek's earbuds and Barcelona is reaching up to paw at the bud in Otabek's ear, one paw on Otabek's eye for balance as he climbs. Yuri captions it "Our first family photo" and adds #feelourdomesticity before he posts it.

Otabek reaches for his phone. "I like that one. Can you send it to me?"

Yuri sends the photo and begins hunting for his final choice. He has a few more really nice pictures of Otabek, but they're a little too nice for the world to see. Everyone knows Otabek is good looking, but if Yuri showed them the cocky smile and determined stare Otabek gave him while gesturing him onto the motorcycle today, the man would be mobbed. Yuri has a few selfies he could use, but that feels like a waste somehow. 

Turning a bit, Yuri presses his lips to Otabek's chin and snaps a photo. "Perfect," he says after snuggling back down and inspecting the shot. He posts it without caption or tags. The fact that both he and Otabek are smiling like idiots says everything. "Now what are we doing?" 

Otabek hands Yuri his phone. It's unlocked and on the photo load screen. "Pick one that I took today and post it for me."

Yuri flips through his choices. Most of them are badly framed pictures of Yuri with his bitch face in full bloom. The few that are publishable are either of Yuri sitting in the mud after falling off the horse or are pictures of Yuri's face twisted up while Otabek gets him off in the bathroom. If Yuri puts up a picture of himself covered in horse shit, he'll have to live with everyone at the rink teasing him for at least a month. If he puts up the others, Viktor and Katsudon will probably take him aside and try to give him some kind of crappy advice about safe sex and a bunch of bullshit that Yuri already knows from having to share an elevator with Giacometti for thirty very awkward seconds after his exhibition skate at the Grand Prix. 

The phone starts to ring.

Otabek stiffens when Yuri holds the phone up to him. "Just decline the call."

The caller ID is for Otabek's coach. "It's fine if you need to talk to him." Otabek probably has practice tomorrow night after Yuri's flight. He says he wants to get an early start on his routines for next season so they'll be perfect. 

Otabek plucks the phone from Yuri's hands, declines the call, and hands the phone back. "What picture are you choosing?"

Even a moron like Viktor would pick up on the tension in Otabek's face. Yuri's having none of it. "What's going on?"

"My coach's father got sick. He's retiring to take care of him, so I need to find a new coach before the season starts. He's trying to get me to go back to Canada." Otabek's teeth clench. "I'm not going."

Once, when Yuri first started practicing the quad in secret, he fell and thought he broke something. He was in so much pain that every muscle in his body tensed up, and his heart beat in his chest so hard that he though he was also having some kind of heart attack. He feels exactly the same way now. Barcelona picks up on the mood and jumps off the bed. "How long has this been going on, and when the fuck were you going to tell me?"

"He called to tell me an hour before you got here." Sighing, Otabek leans back until his head clunks against the wall. "I didn't want it to ruin our time together, so I wasn't going to tell you until I'd figured out what I'm going to do."

Yuri turns, grabs a pillow, and starts beating Otabek with it. "Are you a fucking moron? Do you think I'm some kind of shitty friend who wants you to suffer in some kind of stupid, heroic agony?" A few more smacks with the pillow and Yuri tosses it aside, taking up Otabek's chin in his grip, forcing the man to look at him. "We're friends, you asshole, and we're supposed to work through shit like this together." He lets go of Otabek's face, turns around, and flops back into his Otabek chair. "What kind of coach do you want?"

"I don't know," Otabek admits. "After watching you at this year's Grand Prix, I started thinking that I wanted to skate more honestly." He trails his fingers up and down Yuri's arms. "I'm not graceful, but I have power and precision. I want a coach that will help me work on those things and develop them with my own artistic tastes."

A vision of Otabek skating in his leather biking jacket pops into Yuri's head along with some of the music Otabek is arranging for a friend's party next month. Yuri knows firsthand that Otabek's musical sense is unrivaled in the skating circuit, but finding a choreographer to match that sense and a coach to build out the elements needed to be competitive against skaters with a more classic aesthetic won't be easy. There's only one thing Yuri can think to do.

"I'm calling Yakov." Yakov is ancient, and not as big of an idiot as Yuri once thought. He'll know the perfect coach for Otabek and, hopefully, that coach won't be on a different continent. If they want to get their house sooner rather than later, Yuri and Otabek can't afford to be flying across the world all the time.

Yakov picks up after the second ring. "Are you in jail?"

"Otabek needs a new coach. I'm not coming back until you find him one, and if it's in Canada, I'm moving there, too." Yuri hangs up the phone and gives Otabek a thumbs up. "We've got this covered." He picks up Otabek's phone and continues to sort through photos until he finds a picture of himself and Barcelona asleep on the sofa. He captions it "The man who will destroy you if you try to touch me, so don't bother trying."

"That's subtle," Otabek laughs.

Yuri adds #postedbyYuri and #Thismanismine before he posts the photo. "I can't just rip into someone if they don't know," Yuri says. Really, he's just proud that the hottest guy on the planet is all his, and he wants everyone to know it. He wants Viktor to know that his relationship with Katsudon is a demented mess next to the solid foundation he and Beka have, and he wants Giacometti to know that Otabek told him all about the creepy texts during Worlds, and that shit will stop right now.

They wait a while to see if Yakov calls back and, when he doesn't, they slide down, redistribute the pillows, and go to sleep.

*****

When Yuri wakes up in the middle of the night, he crawls off the bed and takes his phone into the living room. He cancels his flight back to St. Petersburg and checks the shipping on Otabek's new, less revealing sleep shorts. 

Barcelona pads down the hall and meows at him. He scoops the cat up and carries him to the couch. "That jerk has no idea how to trust people," Yuri whispers to Barcelona, who blinks up at him and meows as if in agreement. "I wish I knew why," he admits. Until Otabek came along, Yuri didn't really think much about anyone but Grandpa, at least not when he considered his future. Sure, he thought about beating Viktor and beating Katsudon and murdering that waste of human skin JJ, but they were all expendable, just random people who happened to be at the same places at the same times. Otabek was different. Otabek was the first person to see Yuri as more than just some frail skating prima. Otabek understood, right from the start, who Yuri was struggling to be— is still struggling to be. Yuri's emotions went from "is this friendship?" to "I can't live without you" in the span of a week, and he knows it's not normal, but neither he nor Otabek were normal to begin with.

Still, Yuri knows next to nothing about Otabek. What made him want to DJ? Is it something he'll do as a career after he retires from skating? Is there a family business he wants to get into? Is he thinking of going to university? Is he secretly a dog person and too ashamed to say anything? Did some asshole break his heart and that's why he's trying to keep all his feelings to himself? 

"We'll figure it out." Yuri picks up Barcelona and heads back into the bedroom. In the faint light, Yuri sees that Otabek is sprawled out on the bed with his nuts hanging out of the shorts. "No self awareness at all." Smiling, Yuri crawls back onto the bed for a few more hours of sleep.


	7. Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the end of our little fic journey. Thanks for reading!

It takes two days for Yakov to call Yuri. "Let me speak to him," Yakov says when Yuri picks up. Otabek's arms are full of Barcelona and Yuri, so Yuri holds the phone up to Otabek's ear. He'd put the phone on speaker, but Yakov hates speaker and will hang up.

Otabek's face slides into neutral. "Yes," he says, nodding slightly. His eyes widen and then close momentarily. "I appreciate the efforts you're putting forward, but I don't think I can--" Otabek's eyes close again. "Yes, sir." There is a long silence where Otabek only listens and nods. Yuri can't make out what Yakov is saying, only that he's speaking in his usual rough cadence of blah-blah-blah. "I'm humbled at the offer," Otabek says. "If those are the conditions, then I accept."

Yuri pokes Otabek's arm. "Everything okay?" he mouths.

Otabek nods. "I can be there in two weeks." He looks at Yuri. "Yes, he'll be coming home tomorrow, as agreed."

"I'm staying until--" Otabek's hand covers Yuri's mouth before his complaint is fully voiced.

"I understand. Thank you for this opportunity, sir." Otabek moves his head away from the phone. "We need to get you a ticket home for tomorrow." He cups Yuri's chin with his palm and delivers a soft kiss. "I'll be in St. Petersburg in two weeks. Lucya and Semyon Volkov have invited me to train under them. They're willing to match my current coaching fees."

Yuri is never again going to be able to pull shit with Yakov. The old man has given Yuri the ultimate in favors, and now he will probably hold this over Yuri's head forever. Whatever. It's worth it. Just look at that awestruck expression on Otabek's face. "Their rink isn't too far from mine." They'll be able to move in together, maybe even do their morning runs together. Yuri can force Otabek to come to his evening yoga classes twice a week, and Otabek can sneak Yuri into clubs when he's working. It's all so ridiculously perfect that Yuri gets a small, queasy feeling in his stomach. "What's the catch?"

"You leave tomorrow, and I'll see you when I get there. I'll be staying in the Volkov house until I find an apartment I can rent. You will continue to live with Lilia unless your grandfather says otherwise." Otabek's eyes lose focus while he thinks. "You're right. It's probably too good to be true."

Yakov isn't a total asshole; he's actually starting to mellow out in his old age. Maybe he really just wants to help an amazing athlete out, or maybe he sees an opportunity to keep Yuri's ass in the damn country and is taking it. Either way, the Volkovs are legends, but they've just started to actively take on students in the past three years. That they're taking on Otabek is probably a strategic move to build their skating club. If you start with kickass materials, it's really hard to fuck it up, and when Otabek starts to win silver (and gold when he's not competing against Yuri), then the skate club's reputation will build beyond the single and pair skate golds of its founders.

There's a flight leaving tomorrow at noon, and Yuri books it. He knows he'll see Otabek again soon, and likely every day thereafter, but after living side by side with Otabek for six days, cooking his meals and curling up against him at night, two weeks seems like an agony. How the fuck did he get to be this needy? Is this why Viktor went all batshit crazy and stalked Katsudon to Japan and then played his fucked up mind games to get Katsudon to move to Russia?

"Shit," Yuri whispers. "I'm just like Viktor." He looks up at Otabek. "Am I going to grow up to be a balding pervert, too?"

Before Yuri can start voicing his apologies for being an overbearing and conceited pervert, Otabek has Yuri pinned to the couch, back sinking into the cushions and legs wrapped around Otabek's waist. "You are 100% Yuri Plisetsky. Nobody else." Otabek's hips grind down. "You are not balding."

Otabek is probably just saying that because he's nice and doesn't want Yuri to keep bitching, but Yuri's fine with that so long as Otabek keeps his hips moving in that amazing circular pattern. No. Wait. "These are expensive pants!" Yuri pushes Otabek back and wiggles out of his pants and underwear before reaching for Otabek's hobo sweatpants. There's a risk he's ruined the mood, but yesterday Yuri stained his second best pair of pants and was too ashamed to take them to the dry cleaner, so he had to wait in the apartment while Otabek walked down the street and took them for cleaning. He doesn't have time to get these washed before he leaves, and he can't wait two weeks for Otabek to be his dry cleaning hero again.

One look at Otabek tells Yuri that the mood is not ruined.

Sinking back down, Otabek re-situates them and starts to fog Yuri's brain over with slow, deep kisses. This is Otabek's style, calm and self-assured, grinning as Yuri thrashes under him, desperate for more than the teasing pressure that keeps him perched forever on the edge of insanity. Otabek isn't swayed, though; he pushes up and traces a hand across Yuri's chest, his digits wandering down and around Yuri's stomach and groin as though they've got all day and Yuri's heel isn't stabbing into Otabek's kidney.

And then, after Yuri is clawing across the skin of Otabek's back, arching futilely to get just one millimeter more contact, Otabek changes. He latches on to a nipple and tugs at it with his teeth. He rakes nails down Yuri's side. He licks up the side of Yuri's neck and bites down on the lobe of Yuri's ear. Still, Yuri needs more. Still, Otabek denies Yuri the final stimulus to get him over the mountain and down into the valley of bliss.

Otabek pushes a finger into Yuri's mouth. "Get it wet for me," he growls into Yuri's ear, lobe still between his teeth. 

Yuri obeys. He draws up as much moisture as he can from a mouth dry from gasping and crying out for satisfaction. He traces the digit with his tongue, spreading what saliva he can evenly across the digit.

When he's satisfied, Otabek places a light kiss behind Yuri's ear and sits up. He re-positions Yuri's legs, taking the time to kiss each calf before he hooks it over his shoulder and begins to slide down the couch. 

Otabek's finger circles around Yuri's entrance, and Yuri isn't sure if he's weirded out or if it's the best he's ever felt in his life. "Holy shit!" Yuri shoots up to see Otabek's mouth swallow the tip of his erection while Otabek's finger pushes in. Otabek doesn't dive his mouth down nor does his finger delve too deeply. Even had he wanted to, Yuri's body can only handle so much new sensation, and Yuri's release takes them both by surprise a few seconds later.

"It tastes gross," Otabek says with a grimace, wiping Yuri's runaway spend from his chin.

Yuri kicks Otabek's back. "Just shut up so I can enjoy the moment." He claws at Otabek until the man shifts up to lay atop him, covering Yuri like a warm, safe blanket. Yuri reaches between them and brings Otabek quick relief. They stay on the couch, a sticky pile of flesh and love, until Barcelona howls at them for dinner.

*****

Yuri's first day back at his home rink is a mild disaster. Everybody wants to talk about his trip, and all Yuri wants to do is get out on the ice and figure out how to dodge all the bullshit questions people are asking him. He doesn't have any words to tell people about his time in Almaty, and even if he did, it's none of their damn business. He just wants everyone to keep seeing the angry kid with all the gold medals. That's all they deserve to see. Everything else belongs to Otabek...and some to Grandpa.

Shit, he has so much he has to get done in the next week and a half. He needs to tell Grandpa about his new grandson-in-law and get him to sign off on Yuri living with Otabek. Yuri needs to research how to introduce two cats to each other so Potya and Barcelona don't kill each other. He needs to start looking for a good apartment that will fit all of his clothes and all of Otabek's music equipment. He needs to keep avoiding Katsudon because the pig looks concerned, like he wants to give Yuri some advice, and Yuri wants absolutely none of it.

Yakov is an ass and makes Yuri skate Agape for the new junior members at the end of the day. All Yuri can think about as he skates is Otabek in their future backyard farm, talking away to baby chickens and goats, feeding them bits of piroshki that Grandpa made that afternoon. He's not even sure if he gets the routine right because the image in his mind is so vivid that he can small the stink of goats and bird shit.

When he hits his final pose, the room is silent, and he thinks he must have screwed it up. Ah well, who cares. Practice is over and he can call Otabek.

Viktor starts crying, and everyone starts clapping. Yuri goes to the rail to grab his towel from Mila. She shoves her phone near his face, and Otabek says, "That was good."

"Of course it was good," Yuri says. He knows his smile is probably freaking everyone out. "I'm fucking awesome." He hangs up before Otabek says something sweet and he loses all credibility as a tough, no-nonsense ice punk. 

Yakov hands Yuri his skate guards. "It was almost perfect. Your hands at the end lacked elegance." He pats Yuri on the shoulder and looks him straight in the eye. "I'm proud of you."

There seems to be more to that last statement than just congratulating Yuri on not fucking up a routine. Neither of them are the kind to get all mushy in public, though, so Yuri gives Yakov a sideways grin and a thumbs up. "I'm outta here," he says. Soon, everything he's ever wanted will be in his grasp. Soon, he'll have skating and love and cats.

"Stop looking so smug!" Mila calls out to him as he leaves. He flips her the finger and continues on, smiling.


End file.
